


Begin Again

by jaracens



Category: Iron Fist (TV), Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: AU, Crossover, F/M, wardxtrish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 12:54:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20174590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaracens/pseuds/jaracens
Summary: Ward Meachum and Trish Walker are afraid to fall in love. That is, until they meet each other.





	Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this based off of Taylor Swift’s song Begin Again on her fourth studio album RED. I also wrote it to a Tumblr post that said ‘types of people: soft taylor swift songs edition.’

The atmosphere of the small café Trish Walker was sitting in was comfortable. The smell of coffee that wafted through the air warmed Trish’s nostrils as she took a deep inhale. She was humming contently as she took a small sip out of her mug of coffee, looking out of one of the large windows in the front of the building.

Her green gaze flickered at the people who passed by, a small smile danced on her lips as she watched people laughing, couples holding hands, and business people chattering on their phones as they rushed to work.

Her thoughts tugged at her heartstrings as she watched the couples pass by. All of her past relationships had gone up in flames, and she was afraid to fall in love. Her subconscious also reminded her of her mother’s warnings to _Never fall in love! It will just distract you from what’s important!_

She stirred her coffee to keep it warm as she saw the figure of a tall man in her peripheral vision.

“Hey, is it okay if I sit here?” He asked, and she finally turned to see who was standing to her right. She was surprised to see Ward Meachum standing there, his shoulders hunched awkwardly, as if he were trying to hide the fact that he was there. He held a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, and she shook her head.

“Sit.” She gestured to the man to sit next to her at the high table that she was sitting at. She quickly pulled her sundress down a little further, and readjusted her feet on the stool. She tried not to pay attention to him, but she couldn’t help but send small side glances at his face.

His eyes were focused on the newspaper in front of him, and she could sense his anxiety by the tapping of his index finger on his left hand. His brown eyes looked up, and for a split moment his eyes locked onto hers. A blush spread across her cheeks, and she could feel her skin burning.

She dropped her gaze into her lap, where her hands were playing with the rings on her fingers. She could feel Ward’s gaze inspecting her, and out of the corner of her eye she could see him tilting his head as if trying to get a better view of her face.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asked. She turned to meet his gaze.

“It’s Patsy!” She said with a shy smile, brushing her blonde hair out of her face. She had to bite her lip to stop from laughing as realization spread across Ward Meachum’s face.

“Patricia Walker.” He said her full name. “The highest paid child actress of all time.” She cringed at that statement.

“Yep. That’s me.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “And I know you, Ward Meachum.”

The man beside her sighed. His eyes scanned her face, which made her want to squirm under his analytical gaze. His brow arched as she scooted a little ways away from him. He made her feel like a little girl when he looked at her like that.

She took a final sip of her coffee, and rose to pull on her white sweater over her red and white floral dress. She wore red heels to match. She even had red lipstick on. She gently placed ten dollars onto the counter by her mug, quickly scurrying away from Ward.

She could feel his eyes follow her to the door, and they locked eyes before she pushed open the door.

Fall was finally arriving in New York, which was her favorite time of year (other than Christmas time, of course). Trish hugged herself as she made her way through a small park that she liked to walk through on her way home from the café.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she heard a “Patricia! Patricia!” coming from behind her. She turned to see Ward Meachum jogging up to her. Her dark eyebrows were raised as he caught up to her. “You forgot this.” He handed her a small purse.

“Thanks.” She smiled gently. She turned to continue walking, and she was surprised when he matched her pace.

“Wait-” He said, and she stopped again. “Don’t go…” He looked at her awkwardly, his eyes speaking what he was struggling to say. He led her to his car, where he pulled out a blanket.

He held out his arm for her to hold onto. She took it gratefully as he led her back to the small park.

“This is one of my favorite spots.” He said as they walked up a small hill. He placed the blanket onto the ground under the large trees that let in enough sunshine for the area to be warm.

The leaves on the trees were turning an assortment of oranges, yellows, and reds. Trish smiled happily as she gazed up at them.

“It’s beautiful.” She said quietly, turning her smile to him.

“My mother used to take me here when I was a little kid.” He said as he sat down on the blanket. He held out a hand for her, and she gently sat down with her legs folded under her.

The ground was still soft from the summer, and she tilted her head back to bask in the warm sunshine that filtered through the leaves. She turned to see Ward looking at her with a look of sadness on his face.

“What’s wrong?” She reached for his hand, a habit she had when comforting her sister Jessica. He flinched as she gently placed her hand on top of his. The skin on the palm of her hand was soft, and her touch was gentle. There was sympathy shining in her green eyes as he shifted his shoulders.

“You just look…. so much like…. _her_.” He choked, and that was the first time she saw him crack his icy exterior that he had perfected over the years of dealing with his father. She knew exactly what that was like. She gave him a sad smile.

“Like your mother?” She tilted her head, her blonde hair pressed up against her cheek. Ward didn’t meet her gaze. She felt like she could see the mental switch in his mind go from _Open Up_ to _Keep It to Yourself._ That was a motion she knew all too well.

“Forget I said anything.” He said quickly, rising to his feet. “I-I have to go….”

“Wait! No! Don’t go!” She reached for his arm, taking hold of his forearm. He stopped, and looked down at her. A small blush colored her cheeks as his eyes softened.

She was surprised at the other crack in his icy exterior. She sucked in a breath as she said, “Meet me here tomorrow.”

He nodded as he walked away.

The next day she half expected Ward not to show up, but was pleasantly surprised as he approached her. She greeted him with a warm smile, which he returned with a kiss on the cheek. The air was cool that afternoon, and she shivered.

The yellow sweater she wore was not warm enough for the cool October breeze. As Ward noticed her hugging herself, he slid the jacket off of his wide shoulders, offering it to her.

She took it, pulling the large jacket over herself. It smelled of his cologne, which smelled like pine trees.

She kicked off her flats, stretching her legs onto the blanket that she brought to return to Ward that afternoon.

She had a basket with her, and she pulled out two of her best wine glasses and a bottle of her best red wine. She tried not to drink as much as she used to, but she figured this was a special occasion.

As she brushed her hair out of her face, she caught sight of Ward smiling at her, with a soft look in his eyes.

It was a look she had never seen him give to anyone except her.

He wasn’t wearing a suit and tie like he wore yesterday, he was dressed in black pants, with black combat boots, and a zipped up grey fleece jacket. His hair wasn’t slicked back like it usually was. It was ruffled, and she realized that she liked it more that way.

She gave him a gentle smile. “Thank you for coming.”

“As if I would pass up an opportunity to spend an afternoon with Patricia Walker.”

He gave her a smile that warmed her heart. She liked when he smiled. When he smiled, his lips curved up and exposed his perfect teeth.

“Please, call me Trish.” She invited. “No need to be formal.”

He nodded. “Trish.” He said as if he were confirming that her name was, indeed, Trish.

She pulled out a sandwich. It was one of her famous club sandwiches. She offered one to Ward.

“Are you hungry?”

Ward took the sandwich from her. He was grinning.

“I would never miss out on one of Trish Walker’s club sandwiches.” He chuckled. “Danny told me that these were the best club sandwiches he’s ever had.”

Trish smiled at the idea of the curly haired Defender praising her sandwiches. She remembered fondly of the first time he had tried them, and how his jaw almost hit the floor when he had taken a bite. She watched as Ward unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite out of it.

“What do you think?”

“I think you make one damn good club sandwich.”

After that afternoon, Ward and Trish had plenty of little meetups in that park. They talked and laughed, and Trish started to realize that she enjoyed Ward’s company.

The paparazzi went wild over seeing them together. They spread rumors about the CEO of Rand Enterprises and the child star, which went from them dating to them being secretly married.

When the paparazzi started to invade their privacy, Trish decided to invite Ward over to her apartment for more of these meetups.

Ward arrived at Trish’s apartment on that fateful Tuesday afternoon, holding a paper bag that was from Trish’s favorite bakery that was around the corner from her apartment building.

He knocked on her door, and when she opened the door, he was taken aback. She looked as though she had just stepped out of a 1950s movie set in Paris. She wore high waisted black pants that only reached her shin, and a striped black and white short sleeve shirt that was tucked into the waist of her pants. The only thing that made her look modern was the fact that her blonde hair was pulled into a messy knot and her round framed Red Bird Tortoise colored Henk glasses.

As the smell of the baguette in the paper bag tucked under Ward’s arm hit her nose, a grin spread across her face.

“Ward! You _didn’t_!” She gasped, grabbing the bag. He laughed.

“I did.” It made Trish happy to know that Ward listened to her when she talked.

“You listen to me?” She blushed.

“Every single word.” He was smiling too.

She knew Ward was a good listener. He always remembered the little things she said.

She’d never seen him this soft before, and she realized that she liked this side of him more than the hardened and cold CEO.

She led him into her living room, and he looked around. He had an impressed look on his face. His eyes fell on the many antique objects she had in her house. He was more surprised that she had a record player sitting on a table in the corner of the room. On it was a record version of an album he had heard plenty of times because of his sister Joy. Trish followed his gaze to the record player.

“I didn’t take you as a Taylor Swift fan.” She chuckled.

“I’m not. My sister was- is.” Ward said in return. “I didn’t expect _RED_ to be your favorite album.” He commented. “I thought you were more of a _1989_ person.”

She chuckled again. “It’s fall. _RED_ is the album of fall.” She smiled softly.

“You don’t know how much I had to listen to _22_ when the album came out.” He chuckled at the memory of his sister playing the song until he could sing it in his sleep.

“Dance with me.” Trish said, reaching out her hand for him to take.

He recognized that it was one of the slower songs on the album-_The Lucky One_\- and he took her hand.

She swayed in his arms while the song played gently in the background.

_ And they’ll tell you now, you’re the lucky one. _

_Yeah, they’ll tell you now, you’re the lucky one. _

_But can you tell me now, you’re the lucky one, oh, oh, oh. _

They stood there, swaying together until the song ended. Ward noticed Trish had changed her perfume. She didn’t smell like watermelon like usual. She smelled like cinnamon.

“Would you like a sandwich on that _glorious_ baguette?” Trish asked, spinning out of his arms.

He grinned as she skipped barefoot from the empty space where they had been dancing to the kitchen.

He followed, and sat down at one of the stools that were sitting in front of her counter. She was already cutting the baguette in half.

“Sure.” He replied.

“Turkey or roast beef?” She asked, pulling a pound of each from her fridge.

“Roast beef.”

“Lettuce? Tomato? Onion?”

“All, and do you have mayonnaise?”

She gagged at his question.

“Yeah, but that’s disgusting.”

He laughed. “Oh really?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever you say.” She leaned across the counter until they were almost nose to nose.

He could see the multiple colors in her eyes.

The greens, blues, greys, and the hint of yellow that shined in her pupils.

He gently brushed a loose strand of blonde hair out of her face. She smiled as she pulled away from him. He returned the smile.

“So,” He started. “I have to ask. Have you met her?”

“Who?” Trish turns back to him, wrinkling her nose as she handed him the mayonnaise.

“Taylor.”

“Swift? Yes. I have. She’s a sweetheart.” Trish replied. “I had her on _Trish Talk_ once.”

“I remember that.” He said fondly.

“You listen to my show?” She asked. She was touched that he did.

He grinned. “Maybe.” She laughed.

“Why do you care so much about her anyway? Do you have a crush on her?” Her eyes twinkled with curiosity.

“Well, she _is_ my second favorite blonde.”

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “And who’s your all time favorite blonde?”

“Ellen DeGeneres.”

“Oh- I like her too. I think she’s funny.” Trish said, a pink color spreading through her cheeks.

“Actually no. It’s this other blonde. Her name starts with ‘T‘ I think. Tabatha… no that’s not it. Tracey, no that’s not it either. I think it’s Teddy.”

Trish scoffed. “Well I’m glad you appreciate me so much.” He grinned.

“I was joking. You’re my favorite blondie.”

“Blondie?” She almost laughed in his face.

“It’s either Blondie or Patsy.”

“How about neither?” She suggested. She handed him his half of the sandwich.

He smeared mayonnaise on it. Ward laughed as he flicked a stray clump of mayonnaise at her, and it landed on the tip of her nose.

“You asshole!” She giggled. She dipped her finger in the open jar of pickles beside her, and smeared the juice on his forehead.

She laughed as he stood up, trying to escape him. He caught up to her, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her off the ground.

She threw her head back in a belly laugh, and wrapped her legs around his waist. He was laughing too, until he collided with the sharp edge of a bookshelf she had, and they both tumbled to the floor.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” He said. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, still laughing.

She stood, grabbing his hand, and led him to her couch. She plopped down on the couch, folding her legs under her.

“I enjoy spending time with you, Ward Meachum.” She leaned her cheek into the palm of her hand.

She felt happy with him. She felt something she’d never properly felt before. She felt like she loved him. She loved him a lot.

He grinned. “Same with you, Patricia Walker.”

Ward sat next to her, and she climbed into his lap. She buried her face into the nape of his neck.

“For so long, I was afraid to fall in love.” She started. “But after spending all these months with you Ward, it made me realize something.” She said, looking into his face.

“Me too.” He replied, readjusting her glasses on her face.

“I realized that I’m in love with you.” She said softly.

“Me too.” He repeated.

“You make me happy. Happier than I’ve ever been.” He smiled.

“You made me realize that it’s okay for me to let someone in. To let someone love me.”

And with that, he kissed her.

The kiss was long awaited for the both of them, almost since the moment they met in that café what felt like three hundred years ago.

Now, they can be happy.

Truly happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Marvel’s Jessica Jones or Marvel’s Iron Fist. I do not own the characters used in this story. I also do not own Begin Again or RED. All rights go to Marvel, Netflix, and Taylor Swift.


End file.
